


Upgrading The Service.

by orphan_account



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Other, Oviposition, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tentacles, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-03-15 15:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3452264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Idk how do people normally summarise tentacle porn they are ashamed of?]  Brainstorm lured Perceptor into his workshop under the premise that they will be performing routine upgrades on the maintenance droids. Unsurprisingly, Perceptor gets more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a prompt but it evolved. There will almost most definitely be additional chapters.

Here is a scene: two scientists locked in a lab late at night running _diagnostics -_ or so Brainstorm called it when he’d invited Preceptor over - on the new cleaning droid programmed to serve ship maintenance. 

Part robotic, enhanced by… _organic_ material. 

Perceptor couldn’t explain why he was allowing this. 

A long, pipe-like tubule stroked over his shaft. It kept him stiff and willing even when his  rationality started to object. 

“The organic material needs a host to replicate in initially… wuh- once it has constructed o-others, it can renew and maintain itself.”

It was efficient, so to speak. But the initial method was daunting. Brainstorm writhing on his work bench, open and defiled, was daunting. He’d reasoned that the additional arm pieces were so multiple tasks could be performed at once. Perceptor marvelled at the partly gelatinous shape of the droid’s body; each time it required another limb to pin Brainstorm to the berth, a sticky nub developed from its core form and grew and grew until Brainstorm was practically rendered inert. Tangled in so many of the twisting, pulsing feelers that Perceptor could scarcely see any of Brainstorm’s teal armour… except for the slightly warped shape of his middle, growing incrementally. Filling out from inside.

“What kind of programming is this?!” Perceptor gave a squeak, his spike was yanked upon by the stiff grasp of the jelly-like limb and he was drawn toward the droid’s elected and vulnerable host. 

“Not programming,” Brainstorm grasped, the creature’s binds were manipulating his position, “This is organic instinct.” Mating instinct, Preceptor shuddered, it was one aspect of organic culture that made him flush.  

“B-but, after its done with us - h-how do we make it stop?” If Brainstorm wanted to convince Ultra Magnus that his upgrades to the droids were viable, he’d have to prevent them from molesting people in the corridors. 

“Once it’s brood has been cultured it should go back to being dormant.” 

More feelers wriggled up Perceptor’s lanky legs, stroking over his bottom, and licking round his valve, ever so gently trying to coax him toward its host.

The droid required another’s transfluid to nourish whatever it was pumping into Brainstorm.

”I’m not sure about this.” Perceptor got nervous when he saw the flow of eggs trickling into Brainstorm falter. There was a blockage. The outline of malleable shapes could be seen squeezing down the undulating tubule. One shape was rounder than the others, Brainstorm’s valve struggled to let it in. The other ovum bunched up behind the grotesque shape and pressured it forward. 

Brainstorm’s kicks of discomfort were absorbed by the droid's solid grasp. The action of the fat tendril stemming from Brainstorm’s valve undulated the eggs forward and backward with little effect on discouraging the blockage.

“ _Please Perceptor!_ ” Brainstorm hollowed, throwing back his helm and condensation made his body gleam. Perceptor was transfixed on the prim lips of Brainstorm’s valve twitching and struggling to take in something overly big. Brainstorm shuddered again, a ripple of arousal traveling through his biofields and lashing out at Perceptor, whose hesitance was addling the droid. 

But he kept letting more of its strange, wet feelers coil round him. Their bulging tips invading his circuitry and Perceptor groaned - resolve weakening as well as his knees. 

A wash of extra lubricant bubbled round the obstruction, a few extra tentacles got intimate with Brainstorm’s interface, massaging the stiffness out of his callipers, willing his valve to submit as wholly as its owner. 

Brainstorm was enjoying being ravished. He was beyond keeping things professional now that his spike was growing out of him and a pool of pink grew over his aft. 

“Come on Perceptor, when was the last time you had a frag this good?!” 

Precisely, Perceptor was hesitant to admit that he was gagging for something inside him. Managing though urges with the distraction of work was bearable, but when his work became interfacing… Perceptor was starting to sweat. As his body acknowledged its craving the droid became aware, and concentrated on melting Perceptor’s will to abstain. 

It yanked again on his spike, this time with more force and Perceptor was drawn to the foot of the bed, staring between Brainstorm’s legs. The droid guided his thighs further apart in what would be an alluring sentiment if not for the round, bulbous nodule battering the passage to his internals. Spasms of sensation were making Brainstorm cringe and Perceptor didn’t notice that the sight provoked him to nibble his lip. 

The droid rubbed the conflict out of Perceptor, swiping a feeler across the head of his spike and then teasing round the transfluid slit in a cautious way that made Perceptor’s guts tighten with sick, sick, sick curiosity. 

He rested on knee on the edge of the work bench. The scent of Brainstorm’s exposure wafting at him, smelling sweet enough to make him salivate. 

“ _OO_!” Brainstorm gasped. His legs tugged further apart, his valve fluttered and the egg _finally_ popped inside. His middle burned. A rush of smaller eggs pressed into his valve canal with a loud, wet splutter. Brainstorm was stuffed. The rapid expansion had him gurning, needful and  desperate. As if a part of him wanted it to be over and another didn’t. 

Perceptor could not look away. 

He didn’t want to. 

“ _Brainstorm.”_ He keened, wondering if Brainstorm realised how delectably obscene he looked. Wanton, flushed and spread round a tentacle double Perceptor’s girth, having his spike jerked by the unholy grasp of the hybrid droid. 

“So full.” Brainstorm groaned, arching, the protrusion of his middle becoming less subtle as space inside him became so scarce Brainstorm felt the compaction of eggs put pressure on his organs. “Ahh!” Brainstorm tried to kick.

A moment of fear compelled Perceptor on top of Brainstorm when he saw his stomach stretch and worried the droid wouldn’t know when to stop. He grabbed the thick, tough skin of the tendril oozing into Brainstorm’s valve and tugged on it. 

The first attempt failed. Perceptor’s hands slid through a sticky mix of lubricants and tentacle secretion. 

When he finally jerked hard enough the tentacle slid free of Brainstorm. The suction broke, Perceptor was horrified to see how far the tapering ends of the tendrils had clawed their way inside Brainstorm’s body. They slid out, caressing Brainstorm’s slimy, sensitive valve in their departure. A dozen eggs that had yet to be seated properly also escaped his body in a loud, messy gush. 

The sight, the smell, it made Perceptor’s spike surge. Every instinct driving him toward the gaping vacancy of Brainstorm’s valve. Stretched out and prepared for him. So warm and inviting that if Peeceptor hadn’t been distracted at that very moment his resolve would’ve surely crumbled. 

The distraction came in the worst and best of ways. 

Brainstorm’s valve rippled, pushing out another squeeze of lubricant, adding to the puddle of null eggs drenched in pink. The limb pumping his spike stilled as the girth began to twitch, ejecting a hot pulse of transfluid all over his middle, splashing as far as his cock pit. 

Brainstorm shuddered, feet curling in delight and Perceptor was mesmerised by the thin feelers growing from the body of the droid that cautiously floated over to Brainstorm’s middle and nosed at the sample of transfluid spread across his misshapen plating. How many dozens of eggs were squashed inside? How many would Preceptor be lending his transfluid too? 

On queue the tentacles engaging his spike gave him an alluring little tug. 

“What are you waiting for, Percy?” Brainstorm breathed relief as the tentacles receded from his shoulders and arms giving him some freedom to roll away the tension in his joints. But he immediately reached for his valve instead, touching himself most provocatively, mockingly accessing the work of the droid on his sagging orifice, “Let’s get the job done.”   


	2. Chapter 2

**“I need to know more,”**  muttered Preceptor. He still refused to approach the situation recklessly. Instead, Perceptor chewed his bottom lip. After what he’d just witnessed, self-consciousness was no longer an impediment. Preceptor was blatantly staring between Brainstorm’s thighs, a carnal instinct motivating him to drool. The sight was obscene. A mound of  _‘dead’_  eggs sat just below Brainstorm’s valve. Their sticky, gelatinous bodies slowly spreading like amphibious spawn. The eggs lost their shape as they grew across the berth, their pliant membranes explained to Perceptor how Brainstorm could suffer squeezing so many inside his body. But to warp the shape of Brainstorm’s middle into a solid hemisphere there were surely dozens, maybe in excess of fifty eggs packed inside and Perceptor balefully doubted the potency of his transfluid - surely there would not be enough fluid in him to satisfy the demand?

Seeing Perceptor’s concentration had deviated, Brainstorm was desperately inclined to reclaim Perceptor’s attention. With a gratuitous coo of arousal, Brainstorm delved into his valve - his insides feeling unbelievably smooth and almost  _limp_  after being explored by the oozing tentacles of Brainstorm’s own maintenance droid. He felt strangely proud of himself. If his invention failed in its janitorial duties, then at least it had other uses…

With his gaze fixed on Perceptor’s face, Brainstorm touched inside himself, unabashed. He stretched his fingers. The elasticity in his valve mesh gave no resistance and thin, gooey tendrils of lubricant clung between his fingers. Brainstorm wormed deeper and came into contact with the brood of eggs. When he poked at them, they pressed back at him.

“If you stand there for much longer,” Brainstorm panted, he rolled his exterior node into the heel of his palm, “...My eggs will die of old age.” It wasn’t exactly an exaggeration. Without a donor’s transfluid the blank cells were due to denature within the next twenty-four hours.

Perceptor jolted slightly. Brainstorm watched Perceptor  _force_  himself not to grasp his spike. Instead, Preceptor balled his fists. His arms locked at the elbows and shivers bounced over his shoulders.

“I need more information, Brainstorm. How can we be certain that when we unleash these things into the ship they’ll know  _not_  to breed with the rest of the crew.”

Despite the cramps making his middle ache, Brainstorm cackled.

“Can you imagine?!”

Yes, Perceptor could imagine,  _that was the problem_. He had visions of his co-workers roped into the embrace of overly hormonal droids and used to host offspring until the Lost Light was overrun. Brainstorm may have found the image an adventitious delight, but Perceptor’s deadpan expression described his feelings for him and to get what he urgently wanted, Brainstorm had to concede.

“It’s fine! I promise - the offspring will be born with no instinct for survival or procreation. I just need them to develop a higher thought process and intelligence and then I’ll place them into pre-made bodies. Their clones of the parent, but they’ll stop developing before they reach sexual maturity.”

All the while Brainstorm was pumping his fingers inside himself, stimulating internal traction and an abundance of lubricant continually oozed through the inflamed rim of Brainstorm’s valve. Perceptor was too ashamed to say he’d stopped listening, his focus had been stolen by a trail of lubricant trickling through the cleft of Brainstorm’s aft. It dripped into the slurry of eggs below.

“Perceptor!” Brainstorm snapped, “Stop over thinking! Help me!”

Brainstorm arched on the berth…or tried to. The weight of his midsection was astonishingly dense and the strain of moving made his lips wobble. The next time he called for Perceptor’s ‘aid’ the demand was less terse and more needful.

Although his misgivings were still valid and prominent, Perceptor warily stepped forward.

The machine responsible for bringing them together flinched when Perceptor moved. Its elongated limbs began to slither, Perceptor did his utmost to ignore them and their attachment to the non-sentient voyeur.

Faced with the heat wafting from Brainstorm’s body and the clammy space between his legs, Perceptor felt a tingle in his midsection that pushed down into his interface. His spike hissed and replaced pressure that had since escaped. Perceptor pumped his member quickly with one hand, he pressed his thumb deliberately hard over the tip, fearing vital CNA would be lost in dribbling pre-fluids and wasted.        

“What position would you like?”

Brainstorm removed his hand from his valve. His sticky fingers left marks on his thigh.

“What?”

Perceptor needed to clear his airways, suddenly he felt unpleasantly hot and his spike so hard it throbbed.

“There are better positions in which some organics believe the likelihood of conception”-

“Primus, I love it when you talk dirty,” Brainstorm interrupted, his optics undertaking a wicked slant, “You know those claims are a myth.”

“Yes! But! there may be some logic in allowing gravity to assist in”-

Brainstorm found Perceptor’s agitation an irresistible quirk that he couldn’t resist provoking. There was so much tension shaking Perceptor, Brainstorm was almost capable of seeing the blush tinting Perceptor’s EM fields. When Brainstorm pulled his thighs apart and whispered,

“How do you want me?” Perceptor turned entirely rigid and Brainstorm revelled in the achievement: the spell he’d cast over Perceptor. Exposure tickled and Brainstorm shuddered in giddy delight.

Stroking away the tingles licked across his interface by the cold room, Brainstorm toggled with his external node as Perceptor removed his ocular spyglass. An awareness of empty space in Brainstorm’s valve renewed. The pressing need driving Brainstorm to squirm made his over-stretched valve twitch feebly as impulses of excitement raced downward. The steps Perceptor took decidedly brought him closer to the berth, and Brainstorm.

Having so recently juiced out one overload, Brainstorm’s spike surged with excitement but lacked the reserves of fluid to inflate itself. Brainstorm’s fingers stopped teasing his nub and favoured the soft, supple length of his member leaning against the pronounced curve of his middle.

There was an organic appeal to Brainstorm’s swollen midsection. Perceptor set his ocular spyglass aside and as he did so licked his lips. Brainstorm was never  _not_  cocky, but in his current predicament, Brainstorm had only his wits to protect him. His new found size left him vulnerable, he’d have no choice but to wholly submit - a notion Perceptor couldn’t deny the appeal of as he crawled onto the berth. The proximity reiterating Brainstorm’s size, and the implantation of eggs - no matter how  _gooey_  they were, left Brainstorm open and leaking.

And as Brainstorm continued to chirr and entice Perceptor’s turgid spike to rub against his valve, Perceptor gave into indulgence and spread his hands over the warped, tight metal expanded by the presence of dozens of eggs jammed inside the body beneath him.

Brainstorm hiccuped; overly sensitive to the touch. He softly breathed Perceptor’s name. The pressure Perceptor pressed to Brainstorm’s middle was infinitesimal, but enough to feel the unsteady vibration of Brainstorm’s systems coupled with the gurgling response of the eggs that reacted to being so gently squeezed.

While Perceptor marvelled, the machine subtly stretched its limbs onto the berth and reintroduced its presence to their coupling. Sizeable, flexible, metallic tentacles curled up Perceptor’s thighs -  the thin tips of their feelers provocatively interacting with the sensitive nodes highlighting the canal between the base of Perceptor’s spike and his valve.

A hungry growl left Perceptor’s body. The sound resonated in Brainstorm’s spark like an echo. He’d invented the sound of Perceptor’s lust in a past fantasy, the reality melted Brainstorm’s impertinence leaving behind nothing, but a carnal need: an appetite to whet. Brainstorm squeezed his valve.

“All fours.”

At first, Brainstorm was expecting to blame his imagination.

“W-What?”

Perceptor swiped his hand across his sweaty top lip.

“You ask how I wanted…” Perceptor was leaning back, he gestured to Brainstorm because he was too embarrassed to admit what he was thinking, “Hands and knees.”

Brainstorm’s face glowed with surprise.

“ _Oh!_ ” Of course, he was willing to oblige, but the request had been unanticipated. Brainstorm was so used to Perceptor brushing his jokes and suggestions aside. This was a fresh new thrill, but turning his body was a trial. The round mound of eggs sloshing inside Brainstorm’s body unbalanced him. As he attempted to turn, to Brainstorm’s surprise, the maintenance droid provided better assistance than Perceptor. Brainstorm was embraced by the droid’s tentacles, it helped roll him, stabilise him, all the while caressing his middle with an artificial fondness.

The weight of the eggs made Brainstorm sag, their mass hung low and heavy in his body, curving his spine until it started to ache.

“Please, Perceptor,” Brainstorm moaned. The limbs of the droid coiled around them both, one feeler paid particular attention to Perceptor’s spike, pressuring him to slide inside Brainstorm’s body as Brainstorm was more than ready.

With a brief muttering to Primus, Perceptor sucked in a deep breath and plunged forward. He was only partly gentle. Their bodies thudded together and the tentacles restricted them from moving too far apart again until the deed was done.

Brainstorm shouted, immediately losing the strength to support himself, and slumped forward. His helm rested on his forearm, aft pointed up. Perceptor was in deep, the tip of his spike nudging the roundish body of an egg, prodding further into Brainstorm’s valve with every forward thrust. The egg would slide back into position again when Perceptor withdrew, rubbing a curious friction across Brainstorm’s ceiling node.

The tentacles swirling around their bodies constricted. Perceptor was forced into Brainstorm with a heavy clang, wetly slapping into Brainstorm’s drooping insides and fluids splattered his groin. The eggs had opened Brainstorm so wide he gaped, Perceptor was accustomed to mechs’ insides grafting to the shape of his spike when he entered them, snug and plush. The lack of friction was a maddening paradox. Indeed, it did feel wonderful to be inside another mech, but without the tight, tight clutch of an ardent valve, Perceptor could feel his charge building and building, rubbed to tense, tender extremes with no hope of release.

Grunting and panting, Perceptor imagined solutions to issue while helplessly snapping his hips forwards and backwards, so hard his knees were bouncing on the berth and Brainstorm was shunted further and further up the slab until he needed to cling to the rim of the berth or else be fragged over the edge.

It was then that a few more idle tentacles slipped up Perceptor’s thighs, seeking an occupation.

A wayward idea sprung to mind. Preceptor clumsily reached below…

Brainstorm was whimpering into the berth when he felt the intensity behind Perceptor’s driving force waver. At first Brainstorm feared it was over already and his spent body was too loose to feel any difference.

“Hnng,” Brainstorm trembled. He’d sunk so low the roundness of his gravid stomach was resting on the berth.

Perceptor’s spike withdrew from Brainstorm’s body. The head of his spike resting lazily on the rim of Brainstorm’s valve letting cold air get between them and the tension in Brainstorm’s guts coiled into a hard knot. He waited for Perceptor to abandon him entirely. Waited and waited and was just about to speak when Brainstorm felt something entirely too thick to be Perceptor’s spike alone push into his valve with slow, but persistent force.

Behind Brainstorm, Perceptor moaned from his chest.

“Good grief!” It was like a revelation, “So good!”

Vaguely, Brainstorm noted he’d never heard Perceptor summarise anything so simply. But there was no other description, no poetry Perceptor could use to explain the velvety embrace he was sliding his spike into. Alongside two tentacles, Perceptor relished the squeeze, the weak reflective flinch of Brainstorm’s surprised insides, that clenched up as hard as they could when penetrated by Perceptor and tentacles.

He rocked slowly, hands squeezing Brainstorm’s hips hard. Perceptor had lost his feverish energy and pace, now he focused only on indulgence. His face pinched together, lips slightly parted. The tentacles undertook their role well, they weren’t stationary. Perceptor’s spike moved between their endless twitching and curling. The tentacles wriggled and shook Brainstorm to his core.

It was an advanced feeling. The stretch, the internal vibration, the feel of Perceptor’s body hanging over his, hands roaming, squeezing the bulge of his stomach. Brainstorm began rutting his hips backward and Perceptor lifted one hand to squeeze Brainstorm’s head against the berth. It was utterly thrilling for Brainstorm. The sounds he released as he was pinned down were obscene, endlessly braying for Perceptor to explore his penchant for control. It was streak Brainstorm didn’t know existed in Perceptor until now. It must have been buried deep. And if all it took were a few experiments and some eggs to coax out Perceptor’s dominance, then Brainstorm would risk stretching his body out more often.

With a sigh and a deep, gratified moan, Brainstorm’s valve pinched together. His callipers bearing down hard and fast and sudden as climax quickly crept up and overcame him.

Perceptor felt all of the energy in Brainstorm drain away and clung to Brainstorm’s body tighter than the tentacles could. Brainstorm sagged in Perceptor’s arms, limp and spent, shivering and still muttering perverse encouragement. But the fervour lacing Brainstorm’s tone was fading, he was relieved to feel Perceptor and the tentacles lock into his body tight soon after.

Perceptor’s groin shuddered. Although Brainstorm felt no difference inside his slimy, stretched valve, the guttural sound Perceptor made could not be mistaken.

Gradually, Perceptor’s weight got heavier as he shuddered through his last squirt of transfluid and pasted himself to Brainstorm’s back. Perceptor breathed hard into Brainstorm’s audios, struggling to hold his weight as he was mindful of the eggs he’d be responsible for crushing should he fall.

Satisfied that its brood had received all of the help it was going to get from  _this_  couple, the droid retracted its tentacles. With a low whirring sound the machine’s pliable, metal limbs retracted inside its body and, as its genetic programming did not express a need for a recovery period, the maintenance droid wheeled away from the berth.          

The room was filled with deep sighs and groans.

Perceptor peeled himself free of Brainstorm’s sticky aft. A combination of transfluid, lubricant and egg material splattered their legs. As much as Perceptor would’ve gratefully occupied the berth beside Brainstorm and taken a moment to recuperate, the space on the berth was limited and Brainstorm, feeling entitled to some creature comforts, had already taken advantage of Perceptor’s post overload haze and claimed all of the berth for himself and his protruding belly.

Brainstorm flipped onto his back and remained that way. A goofy smile decorated his face and he gazed up at the ceiling, unfocused and surprisingly warm inside.

Perceptor climbed off the berth, his body aching and creaking. He satisfied himself with a rag and cleaned himself off, smeared away the stickiness as if he was buffing himself back to his former character. Despite Brainstorm still being exposed and unbothered about what Perceptor saw, Perceptor’s traditional stilted attitude for intimacy reasserted itself.

However, given the nature of the situation and the part Perceptor had to play in it, a sense of duty encouraged him to Brainstorm’s side with a fresh rag in hand and a compact bottle of cleanser.

The cool gel inside the bottle was squirted onto the rag. Brainstorm hadn’t expected Perceptor to take any initiative and he had not planned to ask for assistance either. When the cold rag touched inside his thighs Brainstorm flinched. His legs flopped apart in surprise, giving Brainstorm a clear view of Perceptor, who was standing over him, stone-faced and working efficiently as always, cleaning away their dirt that was slowly drying and cracking over Brainstorm’s paint.

“Thanks,” Brainstorm’s strained to keep his optics open, there was something astonishingly soothing about the intimacy of Perceptor’s gesture. It lulled Brainstorm. He desperately craved stasis, but couldn’t bare to miss the sight of Perceptor taking care of his needs.

Perceptor nodded curtly.

“How long will the eggs take to gestate?” He asked, swiping the rag through the wires stretched between Brainstorm’s pelvic armour.

“Hmm,” Brainstorm closed his eyes to think, it was surprisingly hard to do when his thoughts were still coloured with euphoria and the exotic oscillation of the eggs inside his body that hadn’t yet settled were a distraction too, “Approximately five days, definitely no longer than a week.”  

The eggs continued to press against each other and shift with no rhythm. For now it was manageable, but the look on Perceptor’s face showed the kind of concern Brainstorm’s mask assisted him in burying.

“Are you familiar with the gestation process and its side effects?”

A nervous smile creased Brainstorm’s face, he tried to respond without hinting too much that his research took a break between the period of implanting the eggs into a host and transferring the mature egg cells into the body of a maintenance droid.

“Well,” he began and luckily he was able to avoid a discussion of future negligence as a topic of  _current_  oversight superseded the discussion.

“Brainstorm,” Perceptor interrupted. The hand holding the rag against Brainstorm’s thigh slackened as Perceptor craned his neck and scanned the room with concern, “Where’s the maintenance droid?”

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy this work with a side of Brain-Bleach, thank you.


End file.
